


Praise Please

by surveycorpsjean



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Praise Kink, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:16:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8242556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surveycorpsjean/pseuds/surveycorpsjean
Summary: Viktor is a good coach. Strict, talented. But Viktor is kind. He gives praise like a waterfall, overflowing and loud and it makes Yuuri  drown. Russian   Chinese  Spanish





	

**Author's Note:**

> help im weak

Idols are weird.

You look at someone, watch them, through screens of all sizes. You see them grow, watch them change in skill and size, talent and maturity. You study their movements, their eating habits. Scroll through their twitter, watch their interviews. You _know them,_ you think, but do you really?

It’s strange – to admire someone so much. To be blown away by their skill, their kindness. To _lust_ after them, in every sense of the word.

And then… to have them _here-_

Viktor’s eyes are animalistic from across the rink. Scanning, watching. They’re a consistent burn, and it makes Yuuri’s skin run warm.

“Yuuri, focus.” Viktor says, in a tone that’s all too distracting. “Again.”

“O-Of course,” Yuuri nods, and draws his hands back out behind him. The rink is silent today, but springs to life with the sound of his skates scraping against the ice.

He skates, sliding smooth – as smooth as he can – arms curling, rolling, fingers moving in patterns that Viktor has done countless times before.

He’s there. He’s _there._ Watching with those eyes. They watch his feet, his legs. Curl up Yuuri’s body and wrap around his arms, his neck. Even as Yuuri skates, jumping, dipping down and back up – he can still feel the eyes. Like something tangible.

“Good, good.” Viktor calls, from the side. He’s leaning up against the wall, more relaxed then Yuuri will ever be.

He floats, like a raft on water. One day, Yuuri hopes to be like Viktor. Like a single petal in a pool.

“Lighter,” Viktor calls. Yuuri pauses, and turns. Viktor is smiling, eyes sparkly, as he lifts his hands high above his head, and shows Yuuri exactly what he means.

And god, Viktor is beautiful. That’s no recent development, but it’s still true, now and forever.

He spins, and spins, so _soft,_ so weightless. It makes Yuuri’s tongue dry, makes his stomach twist with so many affections, old and new.

Yuuri stares, until he realizes that Viktor is waiting for something.

“Ah!” Yuuri sputters, “S-Sorry, what?”

Viktor laughs, smile so blinding, “Do you think you can do that?”

“Yes!” Yuuri nods, in a bow. “Of course.”

“I thought so.” Viktor skates back to the wall, “You’ve lost weight. Your quads are already so fluid~ It must be the work of my special diet.”

Yuuri flushes at the compliment, eyes turning down to his skates. Yeah, the diet is pretty killer – especially with his mom constantly tempting him with such good food.

“Again!” Viktor calls, and Yuuri gets back to work, heart in his throat.

 

* * *

 

Viktor is a good coach. Strict, talented. He shows him in detail, shows him step by step. He’s relentless and stubborn, and sharp like the crack of a whip – which admittedly, is what Yuuri needs.

But Viktor is kind. He gives praise like a waterfall, overflowing and loud and it makes Yuuri _drown._

Each _Good, Again!_ Every _Beautiful! Stunning-_

It makes him shiver. Makes Yuuri’s hands shake and his gut curl. The words rush down his spine, hot and fluid, and his lungs pathetically squeeze.

He’s exhausted. Viktor is tougher than any coach he’s known – but he’s _kind._ Viktor buys him dinner, gives pats on the back. Is so positive and bright, that Yuuri feels sunburned, just from being so close.

It’s bad.

It’s really, really bad.

Viktor is helping him. Viktor Nikiforov, one of the most decorated ice skaters in the _world,_ is using his free time to teach Yuuri how to get his head out of his ass.

Yuuri sits in the hotspring, hands running up and down his sore muscles. His legs ache, his feet hurt, but his chest hurts the most. He needs to put this behind him – look at Viktor as a coach, and less an idol. As a man, and not a – a _crush._

Agh, it sounds horrible, out loud like that.

He needs to get his shit together, dammit.

Tomorrow they’ll practice all day, and Yuuri will probably die all over again.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri is absolutely adorable.

Viktor leans his head in his hand, idly watching the way Yuuri nervously eats across from him. His home town is cute – his family even cuter.  

But Yuuri? Yuuri is just, indescribably charming.

Does Viktor legitimately care about Yuuri’s well doing in the Grand Prix?  Yes. But Viktor isn’t a fool – Yuuri is probably made of milk and honey. His skin is soft, eyes softer, hair the _softest._ And he floats on the ice like something made to be there. He’s bumbly, yes. A little overexcited, but the untapped talent buzzing beneath Yuuri’s skin is _unreal._

When Viktor saw him skating his routine, step for step, line for line, with a body not even in pristine condition- Viktor flew out the next day. He _had_ to see for himself.

He’s cute at any weight, Viktor has decided. Gut or not, chubby cheeks or slim thighs, he’s still so captivating. Yuuri takes criticism well. Listens to him, with a flush down his neck and a respectful bow.

And Viktor would just like to reiterate, that he’s _no_ fool.

He’s never really been one to spit out praise like an endless buffet. Viktor isn’t mean by nature, no, but praise is something he thinks is earned.

Except, Viktor sees the way Yuuri flushes. Watches his eyes flutter shut and his body tremble.

So he politely takes a sip of his drink and nods, “You did a great job today, Yuuri,” and takes utter delight in the way Yuuri flushes, trembles. Shakes out a _thank you,_ and refuses to meet his eyes.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a long time coming.

They’ve practiced relentlessly in Hasetsu . Weeks, and months, but Viktor has been nothing but adamant about taking Yuuri to his hometown rink in Russia.

 _Too many distractions here, Yuuri,_ Viktor had said, with a soft pat on the back. _I’ll show you a real rink~_

And Yuuri can’t quite wrap his head around that, because if anything, this rink is much, _much_ more distracting than the one back home.  It’s full of people – professionals, really, slinking around the ice without a hitch in their breath.

“Aren’t you excited?” Viktor smiles, in a way that _still_ makes Yuuri’s blood run warm.

“Yes,” he trembles.

“Viktor!” A female skater waves, “It’s good to see you!”

“And you,” Viktor nods.

They talk about something, or whatever – Yuuri isn’t sure. Instead he’s more focused on his skates, trying to ignore the glare Yuri Plisetsky is throwing him. Of course he’s here. Of course.

“I see you’ve brought your new pupil,” Yuuri overhears. “Is that him?”

“Yes,” Viktor beams. “This is Yuuri Katsuki.”

Yuuri looks to them – feels his face flush, because the way Viktor says his name is just _agh._ It’s filthy, and smooth. Clean and flirty altogether.

“Hello,” Yuuri nods.

“Didn’t he fail the-“

“Shush~” Viktor cuts off, turning to wrap an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, “That’s none of your business.”

The crowd of ice skaters murmur amongst themselves, but Yuuri focuses on keeping up with Viktor’s fast pace, and trying to breathe like, you know, a normal human being.

 

* * *

 

With the rink full of skaters, Yuuri really has to keep his head in the game. He strains to hear Viktor’s voice, over the talking and the sounds of blades chipping ice.

 _This is good,_ Viktor tells him. _Drown out the noise. Focus only on the ice._

So he does. Yuuri spins, jumps. Uses his regained strength to run the routine as best he can. He skates on one leg, extends the other, uses all his flexibility to dip low, and back up again.

“Wow,” an old man leans up against the wall, bumping elbows with Viktor. “He’s not bad.”

“Not bad?” Viktor smiles, “He’s brilliant.”

Yuuri’s heart stutters. The world drops beneath his feet, and his vision fogs-

“Ah, fond of your student, are you?”

“Yuuri is undeniably stunning.”

The words echo around his head, like screaming in a cave. His body runs so hot, pooling in his stomach and rushing between his legs.

The tip of his skate catches in the ice. Yuuri gasps, as his body twists, and his palms slap hard against the ice. It’s loud, and the entire rink goes silent. Skaters pause, coaches stop shouting.

Yuuri lets out a sharp gasp, because the blood against the ice is his own. He scrambles to stand back up, but bites out a yelp as his ankle pulses in pain.

His face is burning. Viktor saw – they’re all _watching him-_

Yuuri’s eyes blur, and his chest twists and his heart stops and it’s _quiet,_ it’s so quiet, Yuuri could cry. An embarrassment. What an embarrassment.

But there’s the sound of skates  and quiet murmurs, before Viktor is kneeling in front of him.

“Are you alright?” He asks, blue eyes shot wide, silver hair a mess around his face. He looks concerned. 

“Yes,” Yuuri sniffs. “I’m so sorry-“

“Oh god, your elbow is a mess.” Viktor reaches for his arm, warm hands smoothing up to the gash on his elbow. “Did you twist your ankle?”

“I- I think so-“

Viktors face twists into something determined. Something solid. He says, “Hold on,” and smooths his hands gently down Yuuri’s shoulders, and around his sides.

“Ah, wait!”

But he’s lifted up, weight off his bad foot, and into the arms of Viktor Nikiforov.

Everyone is watching. Viktor has no shame.

Yuuri’s face flushes from red, to maroon, and he kicks a little in his arms, “Wait! Wait, I can-“

“Stop struggling,” Viktor laughs, as he skates to the edge of the rink without effort. Yuuri isn’t _light._ How, how is he-

“Do you need a doctor?” A man asks in Russian. Yuuri’s grasp of Russian is very small.

“That would be ideal, yes.”

“Come, bring him here.”

Yuuri’s head swims and drowns, as Viktor keeps him in his arms like a sweet little damsel, and only sets him down once a doctor kneels at his feet.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri doesn’t say a thing, as his ankle is wrapped, and his elbow is cleaned. Viktor watches carefully, like a hawk, analyzing every drag of the doctor’s fingers against his skin.

The doctor gives Yuuri’s knee a pat, “It’s not too bad, don’t worry. Ice it for a few days, and you’ll be as good as new.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Viktor is staring at him. The doctor leaves, and Yuuri swallows around the cotton balls in his throat.

“I’m sorry…” Yuuri trails off. “I’m putting us behind schedule.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Viktor smiles, and offers a hand, “It happens to the best of us.” He murmurs something in Russian – Yuuri hears _fault,_ and _mine,_ but Yuuri isn’t sure.

Shakily, he accepts Viktor’s hand. His fingers are large and soft – they wrap around his own with such shamelessness, that Yuuri wonders if he can hear the way his heart beats.

“Come,” Viktor prods him up, and slips an arm around his back, to support his weight. “Let’s go back to my place, yeah?”

 

* * *

 

Viktor’s house is beautiful, and Yuuri will never be quite used to it.

The guest bedroom is gorgeous – it’s all so spacious. So pristine, and clean.

They eat dinner; Yuuri stays quiet through most of it. The dull pulse in his ankle is a constant reminder, a loud shouting that says _look what you did, you fool. In front of Viktor, in front of his friends-_

Viktor’s idol chit chat is welcomed. He’s so handsome, so friendly. So good at small talk, that Yuuri’s chest squeezes impossibly hard.

It’s this crush. This blind adoration. It’s holding him back, making Yuuri weak.

But how does he let go?

Yuuri thanks him for dinner, limps off to the bedroom, and tries to steer clear of Viktor, for his own heart’s sake.

He’s icing his ankle when Viktor pops in. It’s cute, the little knock, before the tuft of hair poofs in the doorway. His eyes are bright and sparkly, but his lower lip is pulled between his teeth with worry.

“May I come in?”

“Of course!” Yuuri nods. He shifts a little on the bed, and Viktor politely comes in, and sits next to him.

“How do you feel?”

“I’m okay.”

“How do you _really_ feel?”

Yuuri laughs, “It hurts.”

Viktor solemnly nods. He’s dressed down, in nothing but a tank top and jeans, but he’s still so stunning. The tank pulls around his muscles. The jeans are snug and low around his hipbones. It’s horribly distracting, and the last thing Yuuri needs.

“May I touch you?”

Yuuri sputters, “W-What?”

“Your ankle?” Viktor clarifies. “I’ve twisted mine before. I want to see if the swelling has gone down.”

Oh. _Ohh_ boy. Yuuri breathes in, and wades away the heart attack.

“Yeah.” Yuuri clears his throat, “Yes. It’s okay.”

Viktor offers that half smile, before he leans down, and oh so gently, wraps his palm around the slender curve of Yuuri’s ankle. Yuuri winces, and Viktor whispers an apology beneath his breath. His fingers are incredibly soft, pressing into the bone, feeling for any bad signs.

“Ah, it’s gone down a little.” Viktor smiles, “That’s good. Hopefully it’s a quick recovery.”

“I hope so,” Yuuri sighs. His eyes feel heavy – actually, everything does. Still, he can’t help the involuntary shiver that runs up his spine, just from the way Viktor’s thumb brushes across his inner calf.

Yuuri bites his tongue. Internally curses, and trembles when Viktor’s eyes turn his way. His hand leaves, and suddenly, Yuuri feels incredibly disgusting.

“S-Sorry-“

“Yuuri?” Viktor questions, shifting a bit closer once again. “May I ask something?”

Yuuri swallows, “Of course.”

“What do you see me as?”

The question is weighted. Like cement in your palm. Yuuri’s breath falls short, his eyelashes tap his cheeks with each blink.

“Excuse me?”

“An idol? A coach? A friend?” Viktor tips his head, “I just want to know.”

“Oh…” Yuuri looks to his hands. They’re a little sore, from smacking the ice so hard, but it’s not an unfamiliar feeling. Viktor is staring. Yuuri forces himself to meet his eye, “Viktor, I have…the utmost amount of respect for you.”

Viktor nods, but he doesn’t look surprised.

Yuuri breathes a half laugh, “I…” he swallows, “I was incredibly obsessed with you, when I was younger. But, aha, I’m pretty sure you already know that. As does everyone else.”

Viktor’s eyes pierce through him, “Are you still?”

_What?_

Yuuri stares, and his tongue betrays him. He opens his mouth, closes it again.

_I am completely infatuated with you._

_You are the most talented person I’ve ever met._

_You are absolutely gorgeous._

None of that he can say. Yuuri is forced to sit there, and say nothing.  Viktor’s upper lip twitches into a smile. He’s suddenly close- he smells so _good-_

“Tell me if you don’t like this,” Viktor says, and kisses him, right there and then.

And um, Yuuri just kind of, blanks out. Loses it completely, is the better way of saying it, but honestly, Yuuri enters an entirely different plane of existence.

Viktor’s lips are soft, and slowly moving. Gently opening, and pressing closed again, warm in the way that the most experienced kissers are.

Viktor is _here._ He’s kissing Yuuri. He’s _kissing him._ His coach, his idol, his friend? Maybe? The object of all his affections – the only one who’s ever truly had a hold on his heart.

Viktor pulls back, and blue eyes stare into Yuuri’s with the first hint of hesitation that Yuuri has ever seen in them. Viktor’s lips are spit slick, just a little, and oh my _god_ his cheeks are slightly red.

“Yuuri?”

He must look like a moron. Mouth open, eyes wide behind his chunky frames.

“W-W-“

“I’m sorry.” Viktor tells him, “That was really unprofessional-“

“I like you.” Yuuri spits, because his brain is apparently off vacationing somewhere else. “I like you.”

Viktor’s face lights up like the city downtown, mouth widening into a smile so beautiful, Yuuri almost panics.

“That’s good,” Viktor nods. “Because I absolutely adore you.”

And suddenly they’re kissing again, but this time Yuuri has half the mind to participate. His kissing history isn’t exactly a mile long, but his instincts are enough to help him keep up against Viktor’s relentless kisses. They’re firm – nothing like the soft, hesitant press of a woman – but that might be the best part.

Because Viktor is a _man._ Strong, not one ounce of bodyfat, musky and wide in stature. Completely, and utterly captivating.

Yuuri’s brain is reeling, tripping over itself, setting ablaze with a hundred and one doubts – but it’s washed away, down the drain, by the hand that comes up and rests against his neck.

The breath against his lips is grounding, as Viktor leans back far enough to exhale, “You are _beautiful,_ Yuuri.”

The world falls around him. Disappears beneath his feet. Yuuri doesn’t mean to moan, because Christ, that’s embarrassing, but he does. The words rush through him, make Yuuri shiver- he brings a hand to twist in Viktor’s tank top, and gently yanks on the fabric, slotting their lips together once more.

Him? _Beautiful?_ Viktor has no idea.

But Viktor is smiling against his lips. Speaking into the kiss, mumbling things like _gorgeous, talented, cute cute cute-_

“Ahh,” Yuuri exhales, head tipping back far enough to breathe. It’s too much, just the words, it’s too much. “You, you-“

“I figured it out.” Viktor smiles, slowly bringing his mouth to kiss against Yuuri’s cheek as he breathes. His lips drag down, across his jaw. Further, to the soft patch of skin beneath his ear. “You respond to praise incredibly well.”

“Ah!” Yuuri jumps, as Viktor sucks on the curve of his neck. “I-“

“But not just anyone.” Viktor licks, “Your mother, no. Your friends, no. Even praise from your childhood crush- you smile, but you don’t-“ He nips on the skin, tugging back, and Yuuri jolts, “-shiver, like this.”

Yuuri’s skin is flushed red, down his neck, and beneath the collar of his shirt.

Viktor leans up to meet his eye, grinning, “Cute!”

Yuuri whines, and brings his palms up to cover his face. He can hear Viktor laughing, and it’s musical, like church bells. Lax, and gentle, fingers come to wrap around his wrists, tugging Yuuri’s palms away.

“Please date me,” Viktor smiles.

Yuuri’s head smacks back against the headboard with a residing _thump,_ and Viktor giggles more.

“I-Is that okay?”

“We don’t have to tell anyone, if you don’t want.” Viktor draws his wrists out, uncurling Yuuri’s fingers, until they’re holding hands. Goddammit, he’s so warm. So _gentle._ Yuuri is having heart palpitations, for sure.

“Is this real?” Yuuri chokes.

Viktor gives that smile, _that_ _smile –_ and they’re kissing again, both hands warm between the other, the pain in his ankle long forgotten.

He’s ravished, completely, utterly, taken again and again by Viktor’s sly tongue. It’s fast, rushed- but not _too_ fast _._ Yuuri breathes him in – gains courage, and wraps a hand in his hair, taking utter delight in the way Viktor groans against his lips. His hair is so soft? It shouldn’t be legal, the way the strands curl beneath his fingers, Viktor curling with them.

A leg prods between his own. Yuuri yanks back with a panic, realizing that he’s already half hard.

But Viktor is on his own agenda, head following Yuuri’s movement, just to slip their lips together once more, hands softly yanking him down onto the bed, until he’s more relaxed, and breathing normally again.

But that knee- it drives up into his crotch, right against his sweatpants, and Yuuri all but yelps.

“I’m sorry!” Yuuri squeals, wiggling up on the bed, face horribly red. “Ah, I-“

But Viktor is understanding. He leans back far enough to ask, “Is this okay?”

 _Of course,_ it’s okay. Yuuri has envisioned this hundreds of times, in the shower, beneath his sheets- that’s the worst part, really. These sweatpants are incredibly unforgiving, and the tent he’s ptitching doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

“Please…let me have you,” Viktor kisses against his ear, breath making Yuuri involuntarily moan. “I won’t do anything you don’t like, I promise.”

Yuuri’s eyes fall down to Viktor’s jeans where- oh dear lord, he’s hard too. Okay, okay. Don’t panic- is his mouth watering? Bloody hell, Yuuri is so disgusting –

“Please,” Yuuri all but chokes, and Viktor springs to life.

Hands, hands, they’re everywhere and nowhere at once. Running up his sides, down his arms. Viktor worms his way between Yuuri’s legs, knees beneath Yuuri’s thighs. He’s especially careful of Yuuri’s ankle, long fingers trailing up and down his legs, leaving sparks in their wake.

“You,” Viktor breathes, “drive me insane.” He hikes up Yuuri’s shirt, all growing muscle free for Viktor to ogle. He leans down, back bowing, just so Viktor can nuzzle into his bellybutton and nip up his sides.

“Ahh,” Yuuri squirms. Hot, it’s hot. His underwear is too tight, he’s too _hard-_

“I love watching you move,” Viktor mouths up his sternum. “It’s absolutely captivating.”

Yuuri’s screws his eyes shut, and his cock _visibly_ jumps against the elastic of his sweatpants. Viktor pauses, and Yuuri holds his breath – until there’s a shaky exhale, and a laugh.

“Incredible,” Viktor praises, and leans down to nose against his erection

Yuuri gasps, the pressure teasing, hips lifting up against his will. 

“Could you come like this?” Viktor asks, eyes turning up to him, pupils blown with arousal.

“Ahh,” Yuuri squirms, body heating. “U-Um, I-“

 _Yes._ The answer is, embarrassingly enough, yes. Goddammit, he’s already close.

Viktor looks like he’s having the time of his life. His mouth is pulled into that smirk, blue eyes chillier than any ice Yuuri has skated on. He noses back into Yuuri’s crotch, mouthing against the fabric, and dampening it with his tongue. His hands slide up his thighs, parting his legs a little more, spreading Yuuri into something lewd.

It’s all new, to be lavished like this. He’s been with girls before – one or two, that thought Yuuri was talented enough to be worth their time. It was frenzied, and sloppy, uncoordinated and a hot mess.

But this is Viktor, who looks at everything as some sort of challenge – Viktor, who’s taking his time, rolling his tongue against Yuuri’s cock through his sweats, squeezing his thighs, watching his eyes. Viktor presses hard; Yuuri arches his back, and groans. His ankle pulses dully.

Viktor hums, sitting back up, rolling his hands to feel up the curves of Yuuri’s sides, “I’m sorry, Yuuri.”

“H-Hah?” Yuuri trembles.

“It was my fault,” Viktor says. “That you fell. I knew you could hear me.”

Yuuri feels grounded, suddenly. Pulled down from the clouds.

“Oh…” Yuuri blinks. “So um…the p-praise was just…”

“No no no,” Viktor tugs him close, sitting up his knees, giving one final yank until Yuuri’s ass is pressing against his crotch. Shit, he’s just as hard as Yuuri is. Viktor’s voice sounds deep, deeper than usual, “It was all genuine, I promise. I just, shouldn't have teased you while practicing such a dangerous routine.”

Yuuri swallows. He shakily rolls his hips against Viktor’s crotch, and manages to say, “That’s okay. It’s my fault for being weird anyways.”

“You are strange, in the best of ways,” Viktor tells him, hands still moving in still steady circles – and suddenly, Yuuri is hit with this overwhelming urge to touch him. To curl his hands up all the muscle Viktor has, and bury himself in it. It’s probably the blind arousal, but Yuuri will take all the courage he can get.

“Make it up to me.” Yuuri finally says, making no sense.

“Hm?”

“My ankle,” Yuuri stares. Slowly, he brings his hand down to play with the hem of Viktor’s tank top, fingers barely reaching his hip. Yuuri draws his hand up, the tank pooling around his wrist, and dragging upward.

Viktor’s eyes flicker over with mischief, hair falling in his face. He lifts his arms up, tugging off his shirt, before falling atop him once more, and kissing Yuuri like he was born to.

Yuuri gasps around his tongue, digs his good foot into the bed, and uses it as leverage, rolling his hips up against Viktor’s. The friction is euphoric, really. Water in a desert.

Their lips move faster, a back and forth, a wide open press that feels filthy and good all the same. The tongue against his own makes Yuuri's gut curl. Makes heat settle in his navel, and his cock twitch against Viktor’s hip.

Which is really becoming a problem. Yuuri wants to see- wants to feel how hard Viktor is. Slowly, he brings a hand to rub against Viktor’s crotch, sizing him up and marveling when the bulge just keeps going.

“Ah,” Viktor breathes, hips rolling into his hand. Yuuri presses harder, and Viktor hums against his lips.

“Off please,” Yuuri chokes. His voice is raw from the tongue previously down his throat.

Viktor chuckles, “You first,” and in an impressive coordinative movement, he grips Yuuri by the thighs forcing his knees to his chest, and yanking off his sweats in one go. Yuuri yelps, watching as his underwear gets thrown to the floor as well. The movement jostles his ankle, Yuuri biting his tongue in pain – in which Viktor whispers _sorry, sorry sorry-_

And reality crashes down hard, with the sudden cool breeze that brushes across his exposed skin from the fan above. His shirt is still hiked up to his collarbone, but his cock is shamefully full, flushed and twitching against his hip.

Viktor is looking at him, hands lazily rolling circles on his outer thighs.

“Ah,” Yuuri flushes, and brings a hand down to cover his crotch. “Don’t stare.”

Viktor laughs, and tugs his hand away, “Why not?”

“Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“Not in the slightest,” Viktor says, and reaches down to squeeze his ass, making Yuuri pathetically keen.

“Please,” Yuuri exhales. _“Please.”_

And something in Viktor flips, pupils blowing wide, eyes going horribly dark. They scan him, watching Yuuri squirm and beg as his cock throbs dully.

Viktor undoes his own zipper in one easy movement, shoving his pants just beneath his ass, crawling up on his knees and slotting their hips together like they were made to fit.  

And _ahhh,_ the friction is killer. Yuuri makes a noise low in his throat, eyes closing, head tipping back as Viktor rocks their bodies together once, twice, so so good-

Yuuri forces his eyes open – looks down to Viktor, and scans across the V that extends down his hips. He’s seen him naked before; god, Yuuri hasn’t forgotten. That image was burned in Yuuri’s brain, branded there forever.

“I never got an answer,” Viktor exhales. His face looks strained, like he’s trying to hold back.

“F-For ahhn, for what?”

“If you’d date me.”

His voice is raspy and dark. He noses up into Yuuri’s shoulders, and rolls his hips, cocks slipping together, utterly perfect. Each thrust steals his breath. Every roll makes Yuuri’s back arch, and his thighs burn, driving him closer.

“Yes, yes,” Yuuri exhales. “Yes, _please._ Ah, harder-“

Viktor thrusts harder, the tips aligning perfectly, both of them exhaling in shaky moans.

Viktor speaks against his throat, “I’d love to fuck you, Yuuri.” The arm braced by Yuuri’s head shakes, “I’ve thought about it so many times-“

“Fuck,” Yuuri curses. “Please, please-“

“I can’t.” Viktor nips. “I won’t even last a minute. You’re too sexy, Yuuri~”

 _“Ahhh!”_ Yuuri arches, body flushing stupidly hot. His cock jumps against Viktor’s, his balls raise – he’s close, he’s close, he’s close-

Viktor is evil, mouthing against his ear. Breathing wet and heavily, just to give Yuuri goosebumps. “Look what you’ve done to me.”

Yuuri does – Viktor’s cock is heavy, leaking too – falling against Yuuri’s and _god_ does it look lewd.

“I’m close!” Yuuri blurts, arching, heaving-

Viktor leans up to kiss him, stealing his tongue, his spit, his soul, his heart, begging, “Please, Yuuri. Give yourself to me.”

And he does, in a hard wash of light and heat. His gut makes that final twist, toes tingling, eyelids fluttering shut as his mouth drops open in a wordless moan. His cock lifts off his stomach, coming hard and fast, making a real mess.

Yuuri repeats his name, hardly kissing back. He grips Viktor’s hair and pulls, wrenching a hard moan out of Viktor. As the aftershocks wash through, Yuuri tugs again, watching as Viktor’s eyes roll shut, body beautifully slick with sweat.

“Viktor, Viktor,” Yuuri pants. He smooths a hand around his shoulder, down his chest, “ _Viktor-“_

And he comes, with a final thrust against his hip, body going rigid and hard, mumbling words Yuuri doesn’t understand.

It’s beautiful. A sight Yuuri thought he’d never see.

Slowly, they cool.

Yuuri’s chest is a sticky mess. He’s flushed, all the way down his collar and around his thighs – Viktor, in his boneless state, still has the polite mind to roll off, reaching for the bedside table and wiping Yuuri clean with a handful of tissues.

 They’re tossed to the side, before Viktor rolls next to him, and exhales hard into the pillows.

Yuuri is still shocked silent. He’s staring at the ceiling tiles, eyes wide, breathing labored. He’s never come that hard in his _life._ The endorphins are so good, his ankle doesn’t even hurt.

Viktor turns his head to the side, eyes bearing into Yuuri’s cheek. Cutely enough, he asks, “Are you okay?”

And Yuuri just kind of…cracks.

Because really, was all that real? Did that actually just happen?

It starts as one giggle. Then two, then ten, until Yuuri is smothering his laughs into his hand, sides aching, half naked body curling up into the sheets.

Viktor’s face makes Yuuri laugh harder. He looks shocked, hair tousled from Yuuri’s hands, eyes blown out from his orgasm. But as Yuuri laughs, Viktor squeezes closer, arms wrapping around Yuuri’s side, nuzzling into his neck, “What? What is it?”

“Nothing,” Yuuri manages. “This is a dream, right?”

“I don’t know~” Viktor coos, rolling half on top of him, tickling Yuuri’s face with his nose, “Is it?”

Yuuri laughs so hard, he snorts. He covers his mouth with his hand, and Viktor leans back to meet his eye. The elder grins, so genuinely happy, “Your laugh is adorable.”

Yuuri feels his face flush. He looks to the floor, where his pants are wadded up in a ball – but Viktor demands his eye contact, by pressing close, softly kissing him once, twice, until all the tension in Yuuri’s shoulders have bled off the mattress, and onto the floor.

* * *

 

“Wonderful!” Viktor praises, hands clasped behind his back. “Higher, Yuuri.”

He goes higher.

“Softer.”

He turns softer.

“Put your heart into it, Yuuri!”

So Yuuri does, skates grinding against the ice, body moving fluid and effortless, fueled by each demand Viktor gives. Yuuri has the attention of the entire rink, everyone watching as he flips, moves, curls his fingers and bends back, testing every ounce of flexibility he has.

He’s getting stronger. Yuuri feels it, every day.

“Absolutely stunning,” Viktor tells him, as Yuuri completes his routine with ragged breath. The compliment warms his muscles, and makes him smile.

“Thank you, coach.” Yuuri teases.

The look in Viktor’s eye is predatorily sharp. He gives a nod, gesturing for Yuuri to skate his way. The room is still watching him – so Viktor settles for a friendly tap on the shoulder, before sliding his hand down Yuuri’s arm in a movement fluid enough to give Yuuri goosebumps.

“Will you let me buy you dinner tonight?” Viktor asks, with such a dark underlying tone.

But Yuuri flirts back, turning on his heel, ice chipping, “It depends on where we go~"              

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://zanimez.tumblr.com/)
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> Edit: i wrote this back when there was only one ep and i didnt completely have a grasp on their personalities, so pls forgive


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